Last night I swore I felt the summer's retreat.
It spit and spewed its smoky breath
And left me ashes in the backseat
And all I thought about was a promise I made last fall.
A summer's time and tired eyes
Left me nothing at all
I’m sick of counting busted tiles
In the ceiling in my basement
I’m sick of counting feet and inches
Between the cracks in the pavement.
But this keeps my mind from giving in
To all the nights that we spent, wasted.
My hands were both blistered from every time I picked you up.
My back was sore and bruised
From every time it wasn’t enough,
But I’m walking out this time on my own two feet,
And that’s always been enough for me.
This has always been enough for me.
I remember blaming two swollen eyes and dried out mouth
On an unusually high Midwest pollen count.
I didn’t expect you to believe me.